


The Itchy and Scratchy Show

by sabinelagrande



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fuck Or Die, M/M, Plot What Plot, Quarantine, Sex Pollen, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank's been doing unnatural things to plants, and Erik just might kill him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译]The Itchy and Scratchy Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185546) by [Shame_i_translate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shame_i_translate/pseuds/Shame_i_translate)



At this point, Erik just really doesn't know if he's going to kill Hank or thank him. It's his fucking fault that he and Charles are locked up in quarantine, because his fucking experiments have led to- to whatever _this_ is. He's been doing things to plants that only Charles can make any sense of; Charles tried to explain some of it to him, but by that time Erik was busy ripping his clothing off, and it was a little hard to pay attention.

On the other hand, it's also Hank's fault that Charles is pushing him to the floor and yanking Erik's trousers down, intent on fucking his brains out, and there's nothing wrong with that. Charles gets his trousers past his hips, and he just stops, staring; Erik wondered when they were going to have to go through this part. It's not like he doesn't know he's got a big cock, but despite the stereotype, it's been more a hindrance than a help, sexually speaking. He's gotten shocked or reluctant before, a few complete refusals, a little bit of "I'm doing you such a _favor_ ," and he's not sure which category Charles is going to fall into.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Charles says, completely shocking Erik, who's not sure he's ever even heard Charles swear before.

"Look, it's not a problem," Erik tells him; he's getting itchier and itchier, the pollen or whatever messing with his mind, and somehow he knows it's not going to stop until he gets off. "You can fuck me, just hurry it up."

"Not on your fucking life," Charles snaps. "Don't you dare think you get to hold out on me."

Erik looks at him in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Charles straddles him, leaning over him and kissing him wildly. "There's no way I'm letting this," Erik sucks in a breath as Charles wraps his hand around his cock, "go to waste."

The slot on the wall next to the window opens, and a tub of vaseline comes rolling out. "Thank you," Charles says to the one-way glass, reaching over to pick it up; it's more than a little unsettling, being reminded that there's someone on the other side, but right now he's just too grateful for the help to care. Charles twists it open, tossing the lid carelessly away, and scoops up two fingers full, using it to slick up Erik's cock. He presses his fingers inside himself briefly, but he barely even makes an attempt to stretch himself before he kneels up, positioning Erik's cock at his entrance.

His eyes go wide; Charles can't possibly think he can do that without hurting himself. "Charles, don't-" but there's no way he can finish that, because then Charles is sitting down on him, moaning loudly as he takes Erik's cock inside himself.

"Oh _god_ ," Charles says, pushing down for more. "God, that's good." It must just be the respite from the itch of the pollen- getting closer is pushing it down, but it's coming back faster and faster every time. "Why did you hide this from me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Erik gasps, thrusting up as Charles starts to ride him.

"Don't be stupid," he says. "If I'd known you had a cock like this, I'd have been doing terrible things to it ever since we met. God, Erik, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I'm not going to go around telling everyone I meet," Erik tells him, even though it's getting hard to talk when the need is rising in him, the need to come and the need to stop the infernal _itching_ ; now it feels like it's down in his veins, filling him up with fire.

"You might consider it," Charles breaks off, gasping, "as a public service." He's distracted for a moment, too busy grinding down on Erik's cock; Erik groans, his fingers digging into Charles's hips, and he's pretty sure it won't be long until both of them die.

"Maybe it's better I didn't know sooner," Charles says, moving faster, taking him in deep, maybe farther than anybody's been able to. "I honestly don't know how I'm going to be able to stay off my knees long enough to get anything done."

Erik moans just thinking about that, the idea of Charles at his feet, sucking him for hours, _worshipping_ his cock. "Yes," Charles gasps, nodding, "just like that, as long as you _want_ , Erik, won't be able to _stop_ me-"

It's getting unbearable now, how much Erik _needs_ , and Charles looks like he's just as desperate as Erik; he's dripping sweat, riding Erik for all he's worth. "Now, _now_ , Charles," Erik pleads, clutching at Charles's skin; Charles slams down on him, and Erik comes, _finally_ , his mind blanking out as his whole body shakes. Charles is coming apart above him, his cock shooting over and over onto Erik's stomach and chest, until he finally collapses forward, caging Erik in with his arms and resting his forehead against Erik's.

An eternity later, Charles rolls off him, panting, and Erik stares up at the ceiling. He's so relieved that he feels a little like he's floating, all the need swept away, the absence of the itch feeling just as good as the sexual release. Hopefully, that'll take care of it; whichever of their mortified teammates are watching will come and collect them, and Erik can have a long bath and sleep for three days.

After which he's going to go find Charles and collect on _all_ those promises.

Charles squirms beside him. "Do you feel sort of," he says, looking for a word, "itchy?"

Erik raises his head, looking down at his cock; he sets his head back down again, moaning. He wasn't, not until Charles said anything, but now there's no mistaking it. When Hank said "non-lethal," he was lying; maybe they haven't been poisoned, per se, but that doesn't mean anything, not when they're in danger of fucking each other to death.

Another point towards killing Hank, if Erik himself makes it out alive.

Charles leans over him. "We should get a jump start," he says, licking his lips. "We might be able to fend off the worst of it."

Erik gives him a look. "Is this an actual plan, or are you just insatiable?"

Charles shrugs, not offended at all. "I don't see why it can't be both."

He sighs. "Alright, then. Do your worst."

"Oh, believe me," Charles says, grinning, leaning down to kiss him. "I intend to do my _best_."


	2. Chapter 2

Erik doesn't actually know how long it took until Hank formulated the antidote; he's fairly sure he had already passed out before Hank administered it. It was long enough that the next few days were problematic, as far as walking was concerned. Honestly, everything involving the lower half of his body was difficult, what with the bruising and the soreness. He didn't see Charles at all; he was similarly laid up, and according to Raven, who couldn't seem to stop herself from running between the two of them and trying to nursemaid them both at once, he was probably worse off than Erik, for, well. Indelicate reasons.

But it's a week later, and things are more or less back to normal, except that Erik can't bring himself to look Charles in the eye now. There are a lot of dinners with very little eye contact, because Hank won't look at _anyone_ , too busy being comprehensively mortified and ashamed. Erik's reasons for not looking at Charles are, however, completely different.

Because every time he catches Charles's eye, all he can think of is all the _terrible_ things Charles said to him.

Erik has no idea whether Charles has any intention at all of going through with any of them. Erik himself has said some ridiculous things in the heat of the moment, things that sounded astoundingly hot at the time and incredibly impractical when he actually thought about them. While he would very much like Charles to do any or all of the things he said he wanted, it doesn't seem right to press, not given how embarrassing the results might be.

After supper- another event where nobody really talks but Alex and Darwin, who are suspiciously nonchalant about the whole extended-gay-quarantine-sex thing- Erik goes back to his room. He'll probably spend the rest of the evening reading; normally he might sit outside or in the den with his book or play chess with Charles or something, but he's not particularly ashamed to say that he feels like hiding out right at the moment.

Erik is alone for about half an hour before there's a knock at the door. When he opens it, Charles is standing there, looking nervous; Erik knew this had to be coming.

"If I could have a word with you," Charles says, and he slips in, ducking between Erik and the doorframe. He's dressed oddly, wearing his sweats and a pair of sandals, as if he's going to have a confrontation with Erik and then make a few laps around the house to celebrate.

"Come in," Erik says sarcastically, shutting the door.

"Please, have a seat," Charles tells him. "The edge of the bed, I think." When Erik doesn't immediately do as he says, Charles makes a little shooing motion. "Go on, sit down." Erik cocks an eyebrow at him, but he does it, curious to see where this is going. "Are you comfortable?"

"Physically," Erik replies.

"Good," Charles says, ignoring the implications of that statement. He looks around the room, considering; he walks over to the armchair, looking at it critically, but he seems displeased with it. "Stay there," he says, turning and leaving the room.

He's gone just long enough for Erik to wonder if he could escape through the window and avoid this conversation entirely. When Charles returns, he's carrying the pad from the bench in the hallway, which flops around unhelpfully as he tries to deal with it and shut the door at the same time; Erik doesn't miss the fact that he locks the door behind him.

The cushion tries to jump out of his hands several times, but Charles finally gets it to fold in half. "Feet apart," Charles tells him, and when Erik spreads his legs, Charles sets the cushion on the floor between them, nudging it into place with his foot. He steps back, taking a deep breath. "There, that's sorted," he says, and then he kicks off his sandals. He peels off his sweatshirt, and Erik very suddenly realizes what's going on. 

Charles pushes his sweatpants down, and then he's naked in the middle of Erik's room; he walks over, and then he's naked _at Erik's feet_. 

Erik looks down at him in complete shock. "I told you what I was going to do," Charles says, putting his hands on Erik's knees and sliding them slowly up Erik's thighs. "Unless, that is, you don't want me to."

"Oh, no, please, be my guest," Erik stammers.

Charles grins. "Good," he says, and then he leans forward and drags Erik's zipper down _with his teeth_. "Then let's begin, shall we?"


End file.
